


A Broken Shield

by Sunlight_Stars



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Avengers Family, Canon Compliant, F/M, Friendship, In which the shattered shield is a metaphor for Steve himself, Oh my god I can't believe I get to say that, Reunion, Reunion Fic, Romance, Steggy - Freeform, Steve gets to say goodbye, Time Travel, endgame spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2019-05-31
Packaged: 2020-02-26 10:52:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18715582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunlight_Stars/pseuds/Sunlight_Stars
Summary: "Steve turns his head, wide-eyed, to see his best friend staring straight ahead with his mouth set in a grim line. “I’m not– I haven’t–” Steve splutters, because he hasn’t really let himself consider the possibility. He wants to (God how desperately he wants to) but he couldn’t. He can’t. There’s too much resting on his shoulders.On his tired, broken shoulders."Captain America has done his duty. Steve Rogers deserves to be happy.





	1. Return

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this as soon as I saw Endgame a week ago. It was meant to be a quick one-shot but soon took on a life of its own! Hope you like it :)

Bucky figures it out before he does. It makes sense; Buck’s always known Steve better than he knows himself.

Bruce is packing up the van with the help of Sam - or rather, Sam is loading the equipment while Bruce (whose own hands are slightly too big for the delicate nature of the gear) hovers around him calling out instructions. Steve hides his smile as he watches Sam grow increasingly frustrated with Bruce but trying to hide it. (“You’ve put it upside down Sam, that button’s meant to go on top, and the antennas on the side.”, “You just told me to put it in exactly like this!”)

Thor is over in the corner cradling Mjölnir and murmuring softly to it. To some it might seem silly, but Steve thinks with a pang of his shield; with him through the very best and the very worst moments of his life. The shield that protected him; that never failed to remind him of those he had sworn to defend; that had taken beating after beating after beating until finally, _finally_ it could take the fight no more. A reflection of Steve if ever there was one. In this final battle he too had offered up everything he had and now… now, he felt as broken as his shield. Nothing left to give.

Bucky strolls over next to him and crosses his arms. Neither man says a word, but it’s enough to break Steve from his musing. Bucky’s always been good at pulling Steve out of his own head.

On the other side of the room, Shuri is finishing the packing of the infinity stones, overseen by a puffy-eyed Pepper, while discussing something in a low voice with Clint (at least, it’s low enough that it can’t be heard over that sound of Sam’s exasperated “Come on!” and Bruce reasoning “Hey, I can’t help that you’ve moved it sideways.”).

“So you’re taking the hammer back too, huh.” It’s not question, really, but Steve sees it for the opening it is.

“Yeah, well, I guess none of you are as worthy as I am.”

Bucky snorts with a shake of his head and Steve can’t help the smile that pulls up the corner of his mouth.

“You’re just a punk kid from Brooklyn,” Bucky grins, but it fades quickly. “Tell her to keep your punk ass safe.”

Steve turns his head, wide-eyed, to see his best friend staring straight ahead with his mouth set in a grim line. “I’m not – I haven’t –” Steve splutters, because he hasn’t really let himself consider the possibility. He wants to (God how desperately he wants to) but he couldn’t. He can’t. There’s too much resting on his shoulders. On his tired, broken shoulders.

Before he can think of anything else to say Bucky is striding forward to help Sam (“I’m telling you, it’s backwards!”, “Now you’re just messing with me, man.”) and Pepper moves to take his place.

He hasn’t spoken to her since the funeral. Suddenly there’s a lump in his throat that he can’t swallow past. He hears her soft sigh.

“I’m so sorry, Pepper,” he whispers hoarsely. He knows it’s not enough. “I should never have asked him to risk it. Not your family.”

Pepper takes a deep breath before looking him in the eyes. Her own are gleaming, but her cheeks are dry. “Steve,” she says, in a voice that’s far gentler than he deserves. “You are family too. Tony made the choice to risk it. Maybe a small part of that was for you, but it was for him too. It was for Clint, and Nat, and Bruce, and Thor, and for all those who were lost, and the ones they left behind. It was for me, and for Morgan, and for Peter.” The tears have spilled from her eyes now but her gaze is steady as she gives him a sad smile. Steve blinks, trying to clear his own vision but it’s no use. She puts a hand on his arm as he quickly swipes a hand over his wet face.

“I always knew why the two of you clashed against each other so hard,” she says softly after a moment, the sad smile still in place. He raises his eyebrows, asking her without words. “You were always so similar.”

He must look taken-aback because Pepper lets out a watery chuckle. “Not in the obvious ways. Not in appearance, or experiences, or outlook, or reasoning. But at the core, you are both men who are purely selfless. You both would sacrifice everything you have if there are those you feel you can help. But Steve –” she breaks for a moment, the hand resting on his arm tightening a fraction. When she gains her voice again it wobbles slightly as she says “You have done _so much_ already and you deserve to put yourself first from now on. Because if you don’t… I’m so scared you’ll end up giving more than you have left. Just like Tony.”

She gasps through her tears and he tugs her into a hug. “Please be careful out there,” she implores as they pull away. “Come back to us in one piece.”

“I will,” he promises. It’s all he can manage with his throat choked up like this but he can see that she understands.

“Time to go, Cap,” Sam calls from the van, just as Bucky snags the front seat. Shuri approaches him with the locked briefcase that contains the stones. She hands it to him with a smile that says she knows something he doesn’t.

“A very interesting man came to see me and my brother a few days ago. He asked us a favour on your behalf, and T’Challa granted his request. You’ll find more than just the stones in here,” she says as she hands him the briefcase. “A thank you from Wakanda.”

Steve goes to flick the lock open but Shuri knocks his hand out of the way with a cry of “hey, hey, hey! Not now! It’s meant to be a surprise!”

He hesitates, then nods. “I appreciate it,” he says sincerely. “Tell King T’Challa that I’m grateful, and I’ll come and see him when I get back.”

Shuri looks like she is trying to stop herself from laughing. “You do that.” She begins to move away before apparently remembering something and spinning around. She’s walking backwards now, and she calls out: “Don’t blame me if it’s a bit archaic. I wanted to make improvements but the spoilsport said to keep it OG!”

Steve isn’t sure what OG means but he makes a mental note to look it up later. Clint claps him on the shoulder.

“Good luck out there, Cap.”

“Thanks, Clint. I’ll come and visit you, Laura, and the kids sometime, once I’m back. Now that you’re retired again.”

The archer nods. “You should consider it too, you know. Retirement. Once the stones are returned and you’re back, you should settle down. We’ve done what we can. It’s time to take some time for ourselves.”

“Wise words, Barton,” Thor booms as he joins their little group. “I, myself, intend to take them very much to heart.” He gives Steve a smile and holds out Mjölnir. Steve takes it carefully.

“I’ll get it back to Asgard safely,” he assures, just as Sam calls out “Steve! Let’s hustle.”

He grips Thor’s forearm before he’s pulled in for a massive bear hug. He gets a hug from Clint too, a little less enthusiastic than Thor’s but just as heartfelt. Pepper gives him a quick kiss on the cheek.

“I’ll think about what you said,” he promises the trio. Thor beams, and throws an arm around Clint, who makes a show of trying to push it off. They’re mucking around and Steve smiles at the pair he’s come to see as brothers. He meets Pepper’s eyes a final time and she gives him a small nod.

It’s time to go.

 

* * *

  

Setting up the equipment in the clearing takes less time than Steve expected. Pretty soon they’re ready to go and he assures Bruce that he’ll clip every time branch. He’s got his mission, and he won’t fail it. He’s too good a solider.

Somewhere in the back of his mind he can hear Erskine’s voice. _Not a perfect soldier, but a good man._ He pushes it away.

Sam offers to go with him, but something in Steve tells him that this journey is his to take alone. He tells Sam as much, and then it’s Bucky’s turn.

“Don’t do anything stupid until I get back,” he orders, wondering if Buck will even remember that time so long ago… the night their lives changed forever. But of course, he does.

“How can I? You’re taking all the stupid with you.”

There’s a pause where they consider each other. Steve can see that his best friend is sure this is goodbye, even though Steve himself is still uncertain. “I’m gonna miss you, buddy,” says Bucky, pulling him in for a hug.

“It’s gonna be okay, Buck,” he vows. It’s a promise he’s determined to keep.

 

* * *

**Reality - Asgard**

 

He visits Asgard first. It’s a beautiful place filled with light, and Steve can see why Thor had mourned so deeply for its destruction. He makes his way stealthily through halls of the citadel, keeping to the shadows and behind the gigantic pillars.

A familiar, booming laugh echoes down the corridors but when he catches a glimpse of its owner striding through the palace with an entourage Steve nearly gasps. He’d forgotten, almost, how much the god has changed over the years, yet here he is. Both eyes, muscular, the barest hint of a beard, long, clean hair – did it really used to be so yellow?! And the way he struts, and talks to those around him, makes this young Thor seem so… arrogant. It’s not a word he’s ever associated the Norse god with before and it throws him a bit off balance.

But there’s something there, Steve thinks, in the tight set of his shoulders and the slightly forced tone of his laugh that makes him think this Prince of Asgard is not quite as happy as he appears. Then again, maybe Steve is just projecting what he thinks he should see.

Thor is joking around with his friends on the other side of the huge hall when he suddenly sticks his hand out. Steve feels the hammer in his hand tug him forward a step (nearly making him reveal himself) and after a second he understands what’s happening. Mjölnir is going home. So Steve lets go and watches from the shadows as it flies towards Thor’s fingers, which close easily around the handle. His friend laughs in delight and waves it above his head to the cheers and jests from those around him, finally stepping around the corner and out of sight.

Steve lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

 

* * *

**Power - Morag**

 

Morag is dustier than he expected. 

He sees an unconscious figure laying not 50 yards from the vault and assumes that this is Rocket’s Peter Quill. His theory is more or less confirmed when he spots the headphones connected to what appears to be a large, clunky iPod with no screen. He shoos off some sort of rat-dinosaur hybrid that’s chewing on Quill’s pant leg before hauling the man over his shoulders and carrying him to the vault. Hopefully the rat-dinos don’t venture in here. He sits Quill gently against the wall and unlocks his briefcase.

Despite Shuri’s words, there doesn’t appear to be anything other than the stones (sans the reality aether now back with Doctor Foster) protected by some black foam.

He takes out the purple power stone using his gloves and carefully restores it to the cage clearly made to hold it. Quill lets out a groan and his eyelids flutter, but Steve has already taken out the next batch of Pym particles and is gone before the other man opens his eyes.

 

* * *

**Soul - Vormir**

 

This was the one he’d been dreading. Clint had been vague on the details; A creepy red guy, a long climb, and a colossal cliff. Vormir. The last place Natasha Romanoff would ever see.

Steve’s heart is aching in his chest as he makes the trek up, knowing that there is only grief waiting for him at the top. He’s about three-quarters of the way there when a hooded figure appears on the path in front of him. He is so surprised to see Schimdt that he actually laughs, but it sounds bitter even to his own ears. A creepy red guy, indeed.

“We meet again, Steve: son of Sarah,” Red Skull sneers.

“So this is where you disappeared to all those years ago,” Steve replies coolly. “And here I was hoping you were dead.”

“You are not the only one. Death would have been preferable to this cursed half-life, forever doomed to guide those who seek that which I can never have,” Schmidt laments.

“Huh. Maybe I’m okay with it after all.”

Red Skull’s face twists in hatred. “Did you know,” he hisses, “that at this very moment your two little friends are fighting over which of them must be the one to die.”

Steve feels the air leave his lungs as though the wind’s been knocked out of him. His heart makes a painful thud. They’re up there right now, Clint and Natasha. Maybe if he runs he can make it. Maybe if he’s quick enough, it can be him instead.

But Red Skull is smirking as though he knows exactly what Steve is thinking. “It’s too late,” he taunts. “By the time you reach them –”

Steve pushes past him and races for the top. He can see two giant pillars but just before he reaches them there’s a blinding flash of white light and he’s knocked back. He blinks, momentarily disorientated and Schmidt’s voice from behind him states: “It is done.”

Steve's stomach is rolling. He scrambles to the edge of the cliff and stares down. She was here with Clint, half a minute ago. She lost her life here less than three seconds ago.

He doesn’t want to see. Doesn’t know what he’ll glimpse. But this is Nat and he feels he owes it to her to look. So he finds himself peering through the darkness to the clearing far below, for a (he swallows) a body, or a silhouette, or a hint of red hair, but it’s so far away.

“She’s no longer there,” Schmidt announces, and suddenly Steve is furious. He whips around to see the Nazi hovering in front of the gigantic pillars.

“And how do you know?” He demands, his fist clenching around the handle of the case he carries. He strides forwards until he’s within striking distance of the evil being.

“My curse has many facets. Just as I am doomed to know all who journey here and must remain trapped until the soul stone leaves this planet, I am also burdened with more knowledge than anyone in existence of how it works,” Schmidt states.

“And how’s that?” Steve wonders.

“Once the sacrifice has been made and the soul stone received by the remaining party, the spirit of the deceased – the soul, if you will – is linked to the realm contained within the stone. The physical form ceases to exist.”

Steve understands but that doesn’t mean he has to like it.

He feels a wave of grief wash over him and resents the timing of his arrival, to have been here at the same time as the past stone for the briefest moment but unable to change what had happened. For a second he wonders why this is – until he remembers Red Skull’s words. Schmidt must remain on Vormir until the stone leaves the planet. By arriving early there is never even a millisecond when the stone is not here, and therefore no chance for Red Skull to be freed from his exile. It’s something, he supposes.

Then a thought occurs to him. He hesitates, unwilling to hear his enemy confirm his fear, but if there’s even a chance to bring her back he has to try.

“Can I exchange it?” He asks, keeping his voice as even as possible to hide his emotions. “If you gain it by giving a soul, surely you can get a soul back for returning it.”

But Red Skull shakes his head. “It is not that simple, Captain. To take the stone there must be an everlasting sacrifice. The recipient must lose that which they love; if it could be undone the loss would be meaningless.”

Steve lets the disappointment hit him. Then he breathes in. There’s nothing more he can do for her. So he kneels and opens the briefcase to return the orange stone, but the moment he holds it there’s another flash of blinding white light and he finds himself laying on his back in a shallow lake.

He sits up, disorientated once again. For the briefest moment he panics, thinking he’s left the other stones with Schmidt, but then his hands twitch and he realises he’s gripping the case with his left hand while his right is carrying the soul stone.

“Hey, old-timer.”

He twists so fast he nearly sprains his neck. She’s smirking at him, arms crossed over her chest, one eyebrow raised.

“Nat,” he manages to croak, getting to his feet. Water is streaming off his clothes and he’s ankle-deep in the lake but he’s still dry. Everything he wants to say gets caught by the lump in his throat.

“It’s okay,” she assures him, even though it’s definitely not.

“You did it,” he whispers. “They’re all back. We won.”

She gives him one of her rare genuine smiles. The kind he only gets to see when she lets her guard down. It’s a little sad and slightly vulnerable, but it’s more sincere than her usual smirk. “I know,” she says.

He needs to tell her. He’s their Captain. They were his team. It’s his responsibility. So even as his eye twitches and his throat swells up he still manages to choke out: “Tony –”

Thankfully, Nat cuts him off. “I know that, too,” she says softly. He nods, grateful not to have to say the words. He wants to ask her how, but his voice has abandoned him.

“How’s Clint?” She wonders.

“He’s… holding up,” Steve informs her when he’s able to speak again. “As best he can. Laura and the kids are pretty cut up, too, but they’re all safe.”

“That’s good,” she nods. “The grief will disappear with enough time.”

He thinks of the way his heart still aches when he remembers Peggy’s expressive brown eyes and bright red smile. He considers how much he misses her take-no-shit attitude that reveals itself in her sharp wit, and how often he wishes he could speak with her again.

“I’m not so sure about that,” he murmurs. “Some losses are too sharp to ever fully fade.”

Instinctively, his hand reaches for the pocket containing his compass. He doesn’t move to pull it out but Natasha has, of course, noticed the movement.

“You know,” she grins suddenly, “I wouldn’t have spent so much time trying to fix you up with all those dates if I’d known you were still so smitten.”

Steve huffs out a laugh. “Yes, you would’ve.”

Nat laughs as well. “Alright, that may be true. But only because back then I didn’t realise how goddamn loyal you are.”

“Loyal?” He snorts. “You mean ‘really fucking stubborn’?”

Natasha presses a hand to her chest and feigns a shocked expression. “Gosh, Steve. Better wash your mouth out with soap for that one.”

He groans as she sniggers, but he’s still smiling. It begins to fade as he realises this will be the last time she’ll ever tease him.

“I’m really going to miss you, Nat,” he whispers after a beat 

She doesn’t say anything for a few moments, but her mouth presses into a line and she shifts on her feet. She’s looking down as she admits, “Yeah, I’ll miss you too. But we’ll see each other again. You just need to get a life first.”

She smiles sadly and meets his eyes, both of them remembering their playful words before Scott showed up at headquarters.

“Do me a favour, Steve,” she requests. “Don’t get caught up in the things you can’t change. You’ve sacrificed just as much as the rest of us have, but Captain America has done his duty. Steve Rogers deserves to be happy.”

“I don’t think I know how anymore,” he confesses.

She studies him for a second. “I told you before that I used to be nothing and that the Avengers became my family. You guys accepted me, cared about me, gave me another chance. It changed my life, Steve. Not just because of the work we were doing, but because for the first time in my life I had a home with people who loved me. Don’t underestimate that. You’ve saved the universe plenty of times with some huge crusades; maybe it’s time to change the world in little ways.”

He swallows hard and glances away. When he looks back up he finds the strength to give her a little nod. She holds out her hand and he knows she wants him to return the soul stone.

“Thank you,” he says, trying to convey that he’s not just thanking her for her words, but for being his best friend for the past decade, for her sacrifice, for just being herself.

She gives him another genuine smile and he knows she understands. “Next time I see you, Rogers, you’d better really be an old man.”

He drops the stone into her waiting hand and with another flash of white light he’s back on the cliff with Schmidt.

He doesn’t waste another word on the entity that Red Skull has become, just activates the Pym particles and sets off for his next destination without a backwards glance.

 

* * *

**Mind - New York**

 

Fixing the mind stone debacle in New York proves to be surprisingly quick. Steve takes it out and constructs the collapsible sceptre Shuri and Bruce designed to fit the briefcase, then sets the stone in place. He discards the sceptre on the floor next to his unconscious 2012 self, checks out his own ass one last time, grins to himself, then waits in the shadows for younger Steve to wake up. It takes less than a minute. There’s not much that can keep Steve Rogers down for long.

Young Steve groans, then shoots upright, letting out an audible sigh of relief when he sees the sceptre. He taps his ear.

“I’ve got the sceptre, but Loki’s disappeared.” A pause. “Copy that.”

The doors burst open to reveal Rumlow and a few other Hydra agents.

“He knocked me out. By the time I woke up he was gone,” Steve explained. “How did he get hold of it?”

“Loki tricked us into handing it over to him in the elevator on the way down. He’s a crafty bastard.”

Present day Steve grits his teeth as the sceptre is handed over to Sitwell but he doesn’t interfere. This has happened before and everything worked out in the end.

 

* * *

**Time - New York**

 

The Ancient One is exactly as Bruce described her. Calm but with a powerful energy, and slightly unnerving.

“Hello,” she greets him. “I see Bruce’s quest was successful.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I believe you have something for me?”

He opens the case and takes out the penultimate stone with his gloved hand. He passes it over and watches as she opens the receptacle around her neck and returns it to the centre.

The Ancient One closes her eyes for a split second and a content smile creeps across her face.

“Thank you, Captain,” she says when her eyes open again. “I can see you have something on your mind.”

“Yeah…” Steve rubs the back of his neck, unsure how to word his question. “If someone happened to – to change something about their past would it… I mean, is it possible to stay in the same timeline without creating a – a branch?” 

The Ancient One looks him dead in the eye. “No.”

Steve ignores the familiar ache in his chest. He should have known better than to get his hopes up. He guesses his face must have given him away, though, because the Ancient One tilts her head in response.

“However, that does not mean that changing the past is permanent.” As she speaks she throws her hands out and a golden thread appears between them. “Every change you make to your original timeline – be it big or small – causes a new time stream.” She waves her hand again and a blue line splits off the original. “Now, provided that the change I make is not a Fixed event, this new timeline will run parallel to the original.” The blue line continues alongside the golden line.

“Fixed event?” Steve interrupts.

“An event that will alter the course of history. It’s extremely difficult to distinguish between Fixed and malleable events, as often the person making the change does not know what effect their meddling will have. For example, if I were to go back in time to save a parent who died in a car crash and the parent went on to discover and share the cure for cancer in their extended life, that would be changing a Fixed event. Whereas if they continued to live their life as normal, the ripple effect they have on the people around them would be limited. Eventually, likely a little while after the parent’s second death, the timeline will be similar enough to re-join the original.” She flicks her finger and the blue line that had been running parallel to the gold angles down to meet it again. “If Fixed events are changed, however, the new timeline does not run parallel.” On the opposite side of the gold line to the blue, a red line appears. This line does not run alongside the gold but angles away so that the longer it gets the further it travels from the original. “These branches are too far apart for the timeline to heal itself, thus it becomes permanent.”

He nods and the lines disappear.

“I sense, Captain, that you are very much a man out of your own time.”

He smiles grimly. “You got that right.”

“It is time for you to give back the last stone you borrowed, and to return home. I wish you luck, Steve Rogers.”

 

* * *

**Space - Camp Lehigh**

 

He makes it back to Camp Lehigh knowing the facility will be on high alert. He’s extra cautious going in, but he doesn’t think they’ve discovered the missing tesseract yet because the building’s not on lockdown.

In fact, everything’s going very smoothly – that is, until he gets himself lost. He’s still wandering around the compound trying not to look suspicious when the alarms go off. Cursing internally, he heads to the nearest stairwell only to have a large group of scientists block his way. He heads down the corridor with his head down, aiming for Peggy’s office. The lights are still off when he reaches her door. He glances around but everyone is too busy rushing around thanks to the blaring alarms announcing a lock down to notice him slip through.

It’s as empty as he left it. He ducks down below the window to avoid being seen through the adjacent room. He can’t resist a quick peek, but Peggy is no longer there - she’s probably dealing with the mess of his and Tony’s break-in.

He considers his options and decides that the best bet is to leave the tesseract here. As soon as Peggy finds it, Steve will be able to leave.

But leave for where? He knows what he should do, of course. He should go back to Bruce and Sam and Buck and carry on the fight. But he’s so goddamn tired. He wants to go home. He wants a life, a real peaceful life like the kind Tony found with Pepper. And he wants it with Peggy.

He’s still kneeling on the ground under the window when he opens the case and takes out the tesseract. As soon as the last stone leaves the casing the foam crumbles away to a fine black sand. Steve sets the tesseract aside for the moment (he doesn’t want to leave it out in the open on her desk where anyone walking past could see so he settles for putting it on her chair) and sifts through the sand-like substance. The first thing he pulls out is a handful of the discs Scott uses to shrink and regrow objects, carefully sealed in clear film. Then he discovers a wad of cash that must be at least two thousand dollars. The next object he finds makes his heart stop for a second.

It’s his shield. Tiny, with a thick weld mark down the centre that shows where Thanos split it and a strange circle attached to the top, but unmistakably his.

He runs a finger over the break, awed. He’d thought it was irreparable. Maybe he could be patched back together, too.

From outside comes Peggy’s unmistakeable accent. She’s arguing with someone and their voices are growing louder. Steve slams the case shut and only just has time to dive into a crouch behind a stack of boxes in the corner before the door swings open and the light flicks on.

“– can tell Williamson not to bother! I don’t know why we hired him if he can’t prevent this sort of security breach! Go find Agent Bennett, I want to hear her description of the men.”

“Right away, director.”

There’s a soft thud that Steve presumes is the office door closing and Peggy lets out a sigh. Steve can barely hear it over the pounding of his own heartbeat. He’s so close to her, all he needs to do is stand up…

The scrape of the chair tells him he’s too late. There’s a beat of silence before she lets out a disbelieving laugh, like the soft tinkle of wind chimes. He wishes he could bottle the sound.

A click, then her voice is slightly muffled but still quite loud. He assumes she’s stuck her head out into the corridor. “Robins! Fetch me one of your reinforced containers, now!”

It takes all of two minutes for them to collect the stone, flick the lights off, and shut the door again. He can hear her voice echoing out in the corridor.

Steve drops down so that he’s sitting on the floor properly and decides to think things through. He knows now that he won’t be using the last of the Pym particles to go back to 2023. He can’t, not after being so close to her again. Hearing her laugh.

He runs a thumb over the miniature shield in his hand. He thinks of how Bucky seemed to know that this would happen before he left, and of Pepper begging him to retire. He remembers Clint’s gentle suggestion that it’s time to settle down, and how Bruce and Thor had both vowed to take time off to discover themselves once the stones were returned. He’s sure that Sam would be thrilled if Steve could find some peace. He knows how much it would’ve meant to Tony and Nat if he built himself a good life.

And so, for once in his life, Steve decides that he deserves to be just a little a bit selfish.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Personally I don't think Steve is being selfish at all, just human, but I know Steve would feel otherwise.
> 
> Next chapter will be the Steggy reunion!!! Please let me know what you think!


	2. Reunion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope this lives up to expectations!
> 
> If you want to chat with me about anything Steve/Peggy related my tumblr URL is captain-americarter :)

In the end, he chooses to return a few years after the war. He doesn’t want to take anything from her so he rationalises that if she hasn’t moved on after five years he might have a shot. If she has moved on, he’ll respect that. It might break his heart to do it but he’ll allow her the choice. She deserves that. It also means she will have hopefully already started SHIELD.

He arrives in New York at 9:48pm on April 25th, 1950. At first he’s not sure where to start. How do you find a high-ranking agent in the top covert intelligence agency in America? So he finds a place to rent and pays for the first few months upfront using two of the $100 bills in his case.

He also discovers that not only does the briefcase carry his small-scale shield, which upon closer inspection reveals the purpose of the small circle attached to the top (Steve nearly wets himself with laughter when he realises that Shuri has turned his shield into an honest-to-goodness _keychain_ ), but a lot of other gifts too. As well as Scott’s discs and the three thousand dollars in cash he found earlier, there’s also another shield that’s the same thumb-length size as his, minus four silver marks that make him grin fondly and the join from the battle with Thanos.

He comes to the conclusion the this must be the next Captain America’s shield. Steve will use his older, battered shield when necessary until the moment comes for him to hand over his title and the shield will be replaced by this newer, undamaged version. He knows Sam will wear it well.

The last three items in the case are his stealth suit (as Tony had once nicknamed it), a phone, and what appears to be a solar-powered battery pack. He turns the phone on but of course, there’s no internet. His contacts are empty, too. He nearly bursts into tears when he sees the photos are full of him and the team, and he spends a whole day looking through them. He knows he’ll have to be more careful with this than even the shields.

The 1950s are not quite how he remembers his early life but the familiar sight of smoggy, low rise buildings fills him with nostalgia. There’s something in the grittiness of the air and the slightly metallic smell that – while not necessarily pleasant – puts him at ease.

He stocks the house with food and buys some new clothes, pouring over phone books in an attempt to find her. At night he dons the stealth suit (although he leaves the helmet at home) and sneaks out, the shield strapped to his back semi-concealed with a backpack, sometimes throwing a coat over the top. It’s a poor disguise so he sticks to the darkness.

It isn’t until about three weeks after he’s arrived that he catches a lucky break. Two guys are walking past him on the street when he hears a familiar name. Steve moves to one side and crouches, pretending to lace up his shoes as he strains his ears.

“… why Carter’s making us meet at the L&L after hours,” grumbles the first man. He’s tall and blond, while the second man is slightly shorter with dark hair.

The second man is limping heavily, relying on a silver crutch. “Geez, Jack, just be grateful you still have a job. You and I both know that Peggy could…”

And then they’re out of earshot range, even though Steve’s hearing is exceptional. He could follow the men, but Steve knows they’ll most likely be agents. He doesn’t want to attract suspicion if he doesn’t have to. He plays their words back to himself in an attempt to memorise them. Meet at the L&L. He needs to find this place, and can only hope that the L&L is not a codename for something.

The first taxi he flags has no idea what he’s talking about. Neither does the second. Third time must be the charm because the driver nods and says: “Sure, I know the L&L. Automat, a few blocks from here. They do a decent pie but it’ll be closing up for the night, it’s nearly half past seven.”

Steve assures him that it’s fine and climbs into the cab. In no time at all they’re pulling up to the curb on the opposite side to the L&L automat, which looks like a normal café with a revolving door and bright neon green sign.

He thanks the driver and hands him two dollars (much to the man’s delight), then attempts to make himself invisible by blending into the shadows of the nearest alley. It’s a skill he’s become quite good at lately. He finds an old milk crate to perch on, takes off the pack, and leans back so that his shield is hidden against the brick wall. He’s got a clear view of the front door, so when he takes the paper from the now empty bag at his feet and pretends to read it by the dim streetlight his cover is complete. 

It doesn’t take long for the two guys he saw earlier to arrive. Once they enter the automat the fluoro green sign is switched off and the blinds are drawn but the inside lights stay on.

A car pulls up out the front not ten minutes later and when Peggy steps out of the passenger side Steve very nearly forgets to breathe. She’s wearing a dark purple dress and her signature red lipstick. Her hair is longer than he’s ever seen it.

She pauses long enough for the driver (a thin man in a neat, gray, three-piece suit) to meet her around the other side of the car then they head in together.

He presses his hands into his thighs to stop them shaking. A glance at his watch reveals it’s 7:37. He decides to wait until 8 o’clock, on the dot – not only is it slightly poetic (if he does say so himself) but it’ll give the other men a chance to leave before he meets her. If he’s honest, it’s an excuse to gather his courage.

As he waits he runs through different scenarios in his head, each more frightening than the last. At a minute to 8, Steve can take it no longer. He banishes thoughts of Peggy telling him she wished he had never come back for her and crosses the street. None of the three men have left, unless they used a back exit. His stomach drops as the thought occurs to him that perhaps Peggy left out the back as well.

He pushes it aside and steps through the revolving door, sucking in a huge gulp of air.

There are five people inside but none of them notice his entrance. Four of them are sitting in the booth second from the back with papers spread across the table between teacups, and appear to be in deep discussion. Peggy is sitting on the end with her head down, reading one of the sheets, and sitting next to her is the neat-looking guy she arrived with. Directly across from him is the brunette man from the street earlier, with the dark-blond on his left sitting opposite to Peggy. Standing at the end of the table, one hand on her hip, is a woman with light brown hair and a pale teal waitress uniform.

She’s the first to spot him. “Well ain’t you a tall drink of water,” she says, stepping forward and temporarily blocking his view of Peggy. “Sorry, sugar, we’re closed for the night." 

She’s standing in front of him now, only a few steps from the entrance. He looks over her shoulder and locks eyes with Peggy. His mouth is too dry to speak.

“Get away from him, Angie!” She says sharply, slipping out from her seat to a standing position. She has a gun pointed at him before the guys in the booth have even turned to look. The waitress skips three steps back in surprise, bumping into a table behind her.

“Who are you?” Peggy demands. Her voice is cold, with only the slightest hint of a wobble.

He swallows. “Peggy –”

He notices that she twitches at his voice, but if anything she looks more furious than before. Her mouth flattens into a hard line and her eyes narrow dangerously.

“Who are you?” She repeats in a harder voice. “Because I am warning you, whatever kind of trick this is won’t work on me. Put your hands where I can see them.”

He does as she asks, holding his hands in front of him slowly. “It’s me, Peggy,” he tries again. “It’s Steve.”

He hears a collective intake of breaths from the booth and one of the men mutters “Holy cow.”

Peggy ignores them.

“Steve Rogers died five years ago in a plane crash over Japan.”

He knows what she’s doing. The story given to the general public after his ‘death’ to prevent anyone from searching for his body was that he’d crashed the Valkyrie over the Sea of Japan.

“The Arctic, actually,” he corrects gently. “And I didn’t die. The serum managed to keep me alive until I was found and unfrozen. Guess Dugan’s hot water bottle theory was wrong after all – he owes Jim a rum.”

Although her outward appearance doesn’t change, he can see in her eyes that she’s rattled. Only a Howlie would know that story.

“If you’re claiming to be Captain America, where’s your proof?” Challenges the blonde man still sitting in the booth. The brunette guy is looking back and forth between him and Peggy, who hasn’t taken her eyes off Steve.

Steve reaches up slowly and pulls the shield over his head. He lays it carefully on the floor then slides it gently towards Peggy, who stops it with her foot. He raises himself until he’s once again standing with his hands up.

“What does that prove?” The same guy scoffs. “As far as I remember Captain America’s shield was never broken. It was in one piece at the end of the war – I saw a newsreel a few days before the crash.”

“Yeah, well,” Steve replies dryly. “I’ve had a coupla long years since then.”

“It’s the original,” Peggy says suddenly in a quiet voice. Everyone stops to stare at her in disbelief as she runs a thumb over one of the small silver marks.

“Because of these marks?” The man she arrived with asks hesitantly. He has a British accent that for some reason sounds unexpectedly familiar. “How do you know?”

“Because she put them there,” Steve answers for her, “when she shot me.”

All eyes except Peggy’s snap back to him. The waitress’ jaw has dropped.

Peggy huffs, still tracing the marks with a gentle finger. “I’d forgotten how dramatic you are,” she says in a preoccupied tone. “ _At_ you, Steven. I shot _at_ you.”

At this, she looks up and once again meets his gaze. Her warm brown eyes begin to sparkle and his own vision starts to swim as a hopeful smile spreads across his face. He thinks his heart may very well break out of his chest at the rate it’s pounding.

“Oh my God,” she breathes, setting her gun on the table without taking her eyes off him. “Steve?”

His heart breaks as her voice cracks on his name. He doesn’t trust himself to speak without crying so he gives her a tiny nod.

She coasts forward until she’s directly in front of him. She’s so close he can smell her perfume, which must be some mix of coconut and honey. Her hand raises as if to touch his face, but she seems to think better of it and her fingers curl as she drops her arm away slowly.

The charge between them is electric, reminiscent of the time he returned to base camp after rescuing the 107th.

She must be on the same page because she clears her throat, eyes never leaving his, and announces: “You’re late.”

The tension is broken and he lets out an incredulous chuckle. He looks away for the briefest second as he considers just how right she is before looking back with a tilt of his head and a grin. “I couldn’t call my ride.”

Her hands move tentatively to rest on his chest and a small gasp escapes her as she feels him under her fingers. She grips the fabric of his shirt and then she’s pulling him forward until her soft lips meet his for the first time in over eighty years. The kiss is warm and gentle – nothing like their frantic embrace before he boarded the Valkyrie – but he can feel the desperate edge in the way her fingers are locked in a hold on his shirt and his own hand at her hip is probably gripping a little too tight. His eyes slide shut as his other hand loops around to rest on her lower back and she presses herself into him more firmly.

They both draw back for breath and he rests his forehead against hers, noses brushing.

Steve wonders if this is what heaven feels like.

“Ahem.”

They break apart at the cough, but he notices Peggy keeps one hand on his arm as they turn to face the others.

The British man is decidedly the most uncomfortable looking. His cheeks are pink and he’s staring pointedly away from them, but his lips are quirked into a smile.

The blond man, on the other side of the spectrum, is watching them closely but with a sour expression.

The dark-haired guy is frowning slightly and staring at Peggy with something akin to pain. When she sees him watching her she ducks her head and Steve worries that there’s maybe something between them.

The waitress, Angie, is bouncing on the balls of her feet, looking as though she’s about to explode with excitement.

“So…” she says, clearly trying very hard to sound casual. “You got something you want to tell us, English?" 

Peggy smiles at the other woman. “No,” she says in a light, teasing tone. “No, I don’t think I do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope it's okay! I've read a few fics where Peggy accepts it's him straight away and while I absolutely ADORE those stories, it's not quite how I picture it. 
> 
> Hopefully this chapter still makes sense if you haven't seen Agent Carter (which is an awesome show that I highly recommend btw).
> 
> Next chapter will be from Peggy's POV and we'll get to see her and Steve have a heart to heart :) Please leave a review, they honestly make my day.


	3. Reaction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took nearly a month but I am a super slow writer! It's more than double the length of last chapter though :) Hope it was worth the wait!

Angie gives her an incredulous laugh.

“Right then, boys,” she says briskly to Jack and Daniel. “Looks like you’ve got an early mark after all.”

She’s avoiding Daniel’s gaze but she can feel his eyes on her. It’s not as if they’re still together – they broke up more than a year ago now – but it’s no secret that he still has some residual feelings.

She watches Jack instead, who’s scowling at her like she’s stolen Christmas. She doesn’t know what his problem is and quite frankly she doesn’t care.

“Go on,” she orders, eager to get home and have Steve explain everything in detail. “We’ll reschedule.”

Steve shifts beside her and she feels a thrill run down her spine.

“I can go, if you like,” he offers quietly. “Leave my contact details.”

“Absolutely not,” she snaps, sharper than she intends. She can’t help it. If she lets him out of her sight there’ll be nothing to convince her this is not a dream. As it is the warmth of his large arm under her fingertips is the only thing keeping her tethered. Without it, she’d think she was losing her mind.

Maybe she already is.

Jarvis, bless his soul, is piling the papers together and handing them back to the boys. Jack is grumbling something under his breath but he takes the papers and stands, waiting for Daniel to pull his crutch out from under the table.

Angie seems to have recovered from the initial shock and is now rambling to Steve about her cousin Georgie, who her family had thought MIA until he turned up as a check-out clerk for a greengrocer in Albuquerque.

As Daniel passes her he pauses to say “I’m happy for you, Peggy.” She recognises it for what it is. Hadn’t she said the very same thing to him three years ago after his engagement to Violet? She’s not sure what to say. She doesn’t return his feelings but he won’t want her pity either – she certainly hadn’t when it was her.

So she gives him a small smile, although her expression must be more sympathetic than she’d hoped because Thompson claps him on the shoulder and mutters “tough break, Sousa.” 

“Shut up, Jack,” she and Daniel retort in unison. Hers is punctuated with a glare. Jack holds his hands up in mock surrender and ducks his head, proceeding to the door. Daniel follows him reluctantly.

“I will remind you both that Captain Rogers reappearance is, at this time, classified information not to be shared with anyone,” she calls before they leave. Daniel murmurs an “of course” but Jack just sniffs.

“That’s a direct order, Agent Thompson,” she emphasises, voice steely.

“Alright, alright, sheesh,” he grumbles. “You know I liked you a whole lot better when you were the SSR’s coffee girl.”

From the corner of her eye, she can see Steve looking at Jack as though he’s insane and she feels an unexpected warmth burst in her chest. It shoots through her body, leaving the tips of her fingers tingling with the sensation of pins and needles.

She keeps her voice collected as she replies: “Yes, well, I liked you better when – oh, no, my mistake; you’ve always been a ninny.”

Jack scowls and opens his mouth to retaliate but Daniel pushes his shoulder and the pair of them leave without another word.

“Remind me again why you don’t fire that schmuck?” Angie drawls, hand on her hip.

“Because, unfortunately, that schmuck is actually a very good agent when he wants to be.”

“Oh really?” Pipes up Jarvis disdainfully. “Or does he just take the credit for the work of better agents than he?

Peggy has to hide her smile. Jarvis has never really gotten over the time he was held in police custody by Jack, and had been more outraged than even Daniel when Thompson took the credit for Peggy’s part in clearing Howard’s name.

“Nevertheless…” She sighs. Suddenly she realises that she hasn’t actually introduced anyone. “Oh! I’m so sorry. You two, this is Steve Rogers. Steve, this is my good friend Angie Martinelli.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Angie,” Steve says politely, extending his hand. Peggy wonders for a moment at his confidence – when she’d known him during the war he never would have addressed her as anything other than ‘ma’am’ – but is distracted when Angie says “now I know why Peg gets all mopey whenever she reads a Captain America headline in the papers.”

“I do _not_ get ‘mopey’,” she argues, horrified to feel her cheeks starting to heat up. Angie shoots Steve a meaningful look that says “oh yes she does” so Peggy quickly moves on.

“And this is Edwin Jarvis; Howard’s butler and another dear friend of mine.”

Steve jerks, his expression almost comically surprised. “Jarvis?” He repeats uncertainly.

“That’s right, sir,” Jarvis confirms, stepping forward to shake his hand. “It’s a privilege to meet your acquaintance, Captain.”

The L&L’s overhead lights must be playing tricks on her because Peggy thinks she sees the sheen of tears in Steve’s eyes as he takes the offered hand and says “you too” but a second later he blinks and it has gone.

It hits her that they need to tell Howard immediately. “Mr. Jarvis, if I could trouble you for a lift to Howard’s house? He’ll want to hear about this in person.”

Steve clears his throat and says apologetically. “We can’t tell him.”

“What?” She turns to him in disbelief. “Steve, Howard was devastated when we lost you. He deserves to know you’re alive.”

Steve face screws up in pain but he shakes his head. “Not yet. I need to tell you what happened to me first.”

She studies him closely and notices with a shock the hints of grey in his hair. The lines on his face are slightly deeper too and she realises he has grown from the young man she once knew. His eyes are the same though, with the addition of a haunted air. After the five years she’s had she supposes that she must carry a similar impression.

But why did it take him five years to get back to her if he’s been alive and ageing all this time? He shouldn’t even be ageing when you take the serum into account. Had someone reversed the effects of the serum? He said he’d been found and unfrozen but by whom? Certainly not Howard. Her stomach twists as she considers the unthinkable.

“HYDRA?” She whispers, horrified.

The crease between his eyebrows deepens and she can see his adam’s apple jump in his throat. “Not… exactly.”

“Alright,” she acquiesces when it becomes clear he’s not going to elaborate, “you can come back to my apartment to tell your story then we’ll decide what to do about Howard.”

She worries for a moment that she’s been too forward inviting him to her place but Steve doesn’t seem shocked. On the contrary, he looks rather relieved as he nods his consent.

* * *

 

 

The car ride is a blur. They’re currently on the way to drop off Angie, who’s in the front seat and keeps craning her neck to look at the pair in the back. Peggy resists the temptation to roll her eyes at her lack of subtlety.

Angie, who has only recently taken back her job at the automat after a dry spell of acting jobs, lives fairly close to the automat. Peggy’s own apartment is only a few streets from there.

“I’ve been renting a place for the last few weeks while I tried to trace you,” Steve explains. “It’s farther uptown.”

“Yes, how _did_ you manage to find me? I’d rather hoped I would be more difficult to track down than by anyone with enough determination.”

“It was luck, really. I heard that blond agent of yours mention your name and ‘the L&L’ so I took the chance.”

Peggy sighs. “I’m really going to have to talk to him about company policy.”

Steve is frowning slightly.

“What is it?” She asks, concerned.

“The guy that was with him…”

Bugger. Steve was always smarter than people gave him credit for.

“Is he – are you two...?”

“Steven, I swear to god if you end that sentence with any word that even resembles ‘fondue’ I will actually punch you in the face.”

He doesn’t smile like she expects him to. Instead he looks down at his hands, which he’s twisting in his lap.

“It’s just… five years is a long time. If you’ve moved on, or there’s someone else… I don’t expect you to give anything up just because I came blundering in to complicate your life.” His deep voice is sincere as he finally meets her gaze. His desolate expression causes a sharp stab of pain in her chest.

She’d tried so hard not to forget him, to hold on to the way he made her feel – valued and respected without sacrificing an ounce of her own authority – but over the years the feeling faded. The worst part was she hadn’t even realised. Constantly working with those who undermined and denigrated her or wished she was different or expected her to change had worn her down so much that until this moment she hadn’t even realised that she’d been missing that feeling.

“Believe it or not, I am actually rather good at handling complicated,” she murmurs, staring out the window. Jarvis is turning on to Angie’s street. No one says a word.

As the car pulls up out the front of the building, Peggy sighs. “Daniel and I were together at one point but things didn’t turn out. It ended quite some time ago. Angie, are you getting out anytime tonight?”

“Yeah sorry, English,” her friend dimples, then turns to Steve. “It was real nice meeting you. Peg, I’ll – er, I’ll catch up with you…?” She leaves it as an open-ended question and Peggy knows she won’t be able to keep something this interesting from Angie for long, as much as she might want to shut herself away from the world for the next week with only Steve for company. She suspects if she doesn’t bring her friend the gossip, Angie will be bursting into her apartment demanding answers.

“Tomorrow afternoon.” Peggy sighs, then feels immediately guilty at the look of relief on Angie’s face. Clearly Angie is far less concerned with the gossip than she is for her friend taking a strange man home.

The rest of the drive is spent in silence. Peggy focuses on the man beside her, cataloguing the differences from the man she remembers and trying to keep her breathing even when she finds details that haven’t changed. He’s staring back at her with a desperate expression that suggests he’s doing much the same.

When they get to her apartment, Jarvis is (for once) quicker than she is and manages to open the car door for her. She steps out and waits for Steve to do the same, conscientiously ignoring the triumphant grin on the butler’s face.

“Thank you,” Steve tells him as Jarvis shuts the door behind him.

“Of course, sir.”

“Yes, thank you, Mr. Jarvis.” Peggy echoes. “I’ll see you and Ana for dinner on Friday.”

“Very good. Shall I set the table for four?” He inquires judiciously.

Peggy hesitates and shoots a glance at Steve. She isn’t sure they should go around spreading the knowledge that he’s back, at the very least until she’s heard where he’s been. Although she trusts the Jarvises with her life there are already more people then she’s comfortable with who know that Captain America has returned.

“I’ll let you know,” she replies carefully.

He nods and she turns to go inside when he calls: “Miss Carter”, and she looks back at him.

“If you need anything, please call me. No matter the time.” His eyes are anxious. She gets the message. Just like Angie arranging a check in tomorrow, this is his way of telling her to be vigilant.

She very nearly huffs in frustration – she’s a highly trained agent for heaven’s sake! – but she knows he’s only trying to avoid seeing her hurt because he cares.

Instead of snapping at him, she keeps her voice light (albeit slightly more sarcastic than she’d planned): “Even after nine pm? Goodness, what will your wife say?”

To his credit he doesn’t even blush. Just continues to stare at her with a worried expression that’s so genuine she finds herself softening.

“I will call if I need anything,” she assures him. He relaxes somewhat, bidding them goodnight, and she walks up the stairs to where Steve is waiting by the door.

“You’ve got good friends,” he states as Jarvis drives away. “They really care about you.”

“I know.” She unlocks the door and gestures to the stairs, which he starts climbing. “I’m on the top floor in the attics.”

“Your own penthouse?” He jokes. The joke is on him – it’s actually quite cosy. It’s small yes, with only one bedroom, a bathroom, a kitchenette and a tiny living space that she managed to squash a lounge, armchair and coffee table into with a great deal of effort, but she’s made the most of it. In the end it’s just a go between until she can afford her own house. It’s a goal she’s not far off, either.

“Something like that,” she replies dryly.

There’s no more talking until they get to her door. She’s oddly nervous as she lets him into her home, wondering what he’ll think of the place. Of her.

_Get it together, Peggy,_ she scolds herself before offering him a cup of tea.

He accepts, and she’s grateful for the opportunity to gather herself as she goes through the calmingly familiar ritual of making tea. She decides to test him (no harm in double checking) and forgoes the sugar in his tea. She doesn’t want to be obvious so she adds a ridiculous amount of milk to his cup.

“Your milky hot water,” she announces, passing him the mug. He beams at the reference; she had constantly teased him for his horrendous tea habits during the war.

Steve’s perched on the couch (shield resting against his leg) so she leans back into the armchair and watches him take a sip. If his disgusted grimace is a fake it’s a damn good one, and she lets out a peal of delighted laughter before heading back to the kitchen for a sugar bowl.

She sinks back into the armchair and wrinkles her nose as he scoops three teaspoons of sugar into his cup. This is without a doubt her Steve Rogers.

He takes a sip. Peggy steels herself to rip off the band-aid. “How are you here?”

He puts his tea on the coffee table, sighs, and scrubs a hand over his chin. “It’s a long and sort of unbelievable story, Peg.”

Both her hands are wrapped around her hot cup and she toes her shoes off to tuck her legs up under her. “We’ve got time,” she says calmly, eyes trained on him.

He sucks in a huge breath of air before coughing out a strange, strangled laugh. “Yeah… yeah, I guess we do.”

But he lapses into silence once more. Impatient, Peggy prompts: “You said you were found in the ice and unfrozen but it wasn’t by HYDRA. Who was it?”

He sighs. “This is where it gets complicated.”

“Already,” she remarks, raising an eyebrow. “That certainly didn’t take long. Just spit it out, Steve. If it wasn’t HYDRA…”

“It was SHIELD.”

She thinks her brain has short-circuited. It couldn’t be SHIELD. She’s the highest level clearance – if someone in her agency had found Captain America she would have heard about it. The only person who could feasibly keep this information from her is Howard, and he wouldn’t dare. Not if it concerned Steve. She suspends her disbelief to hear him out.

“When did this happen? How do you know about SHIELD? We’ve only been up and running for twelve months. And even if your discovery was somehow kept from me, they couldn’t have found you before last year at the earliest, and you’ve clearly aged more than a year.”

“Remember how I said my story is kinda unbelievable? This is where I need you to bear with me.” His eyes are pleading so she nods to acknowledge she’ll keep an open mind. “The thing is, they didn’t find me recently, or before last year; they found me in 2011. I’ve been living in the 21stcentury for the past decade and then – I got caught up in another war. To end it my team sorta… discovered time travel.”

Time travel.

“Damn,” she mutters viciously, annoyed at the film of tears causing her vision to swim. She refuses to let them fall. “And I was so _sure_ I wasn’t dreaming.”

“Peg,” he says gently, but now that she knows it’s not real his voice it loses all comfort. How many times had she fallen into this trap? How many times had she had this exact fantasy of Steve returning, only to have the illusion broken and heartache renewed when she was faced with reality? It had been so easy to convince herself that she wasn’t imagining things under the bright fluorescent lights of the diner, surrounded by her friends. As long as there were others that could see him she was confident that it must be real, but here in her tiny apartment it becomes so much harder to believe that he’s back; drinking his appalling version of tea and taking up half her living room.

She wonders if she imagined the encounter at the L&L. Had her friends ever even seen him? Had she well and truly gone mad? It certainly felt like it.

He’s crouching in front of her now, watching her with that deep crease between his eyes she’d somehow forgotten about (how could she have forgotten?), and his hands are hovering uncertainly over her own, not quite touching. She’s grateful – if he touches her again while she knows she’s dreaming Peggy’s sure she’ll shatter.

“Peggy,” he says in that same soft voice. She hates it with a surge of intense, bitter rage that surprises her. What had she done to deserve this reminder of the man she has loved and lost?

“I know it sounds insane but time travel is possible, I promise, and I came back because of it.”

She shakes her head. “That’s how I know this can’t be real,” she declares. She’s not sure why she feels the need to explain. Perhaps it will help her wake up that much faster. “If the ability to travel in time exists, you would use it to do something big. Go back and stop Hitler as a young man. End the war years earlier. You wouldn’t use it to come back to _me_.” Her words are incredulous. “I must be hallucinating.”

For a long moment, Steve just stares at her, blinking.

Then he says: “You can’t stand baseball.”

It throws her for a loop. “I beg your pardon?”

He grimaces and gives her an apologetic half-shrug. “You can’t stand baseball, but you know a lot about it. You get real cranky when you haven’t eaten and you’re almost impossible to wake up. You probably have the quickest temper of anyone I’ve ever met.”

“What is happening here?” She wonders, disbelieving.

“I’m trying to prove that you’re not imagining me.” Steve explains.

Her eyes narrow. “And you thought the best way to do this was to start insulting me?”

He pauses. “Well… yeah. I’m trying to think of things you wouldn’t think to say about yourself.”

She hesitates, considering. Her initial incredulity at Steve’s offensive technique is wearing off and annoyance starting to replace it, so she has to reluctantly admit that it is actually working. On the rare occasions she’d allowed herself to imagine a reunion it certainly hadn’t gone like this.

“You hate being wrong and can’t admit when you are.”

“Alright!” She snaps. “I think that will do for now. I understand the idea but the problem is that you can’t tell me things about myself, because I could still be imagining you saying them. And anything you try to tell me about yourself that I don’t know could just be my subconscious making something up.”

He nods, pensive frown back in place. “I wish I hadn’t left my phone in the flat. I could show you – Hey, do you have Dugan’s number?” He asks out of the blue.

“Not currently,” she answers, surprised. She not sure what he means about leaving his phone (was he planning on carrying the whole thing with him?) but she chooses to ignore it. “He’s actually in New Zealand at the moment but I have ways to contact him.”

“Alright then,” he grins suddenly. “I’ve got a good one. You can call Dum Dum later to verify.”

“Go on.” Peggy seriously doubts he’s got anything to convince her but she’s decided she’s willing to go along with it. She clearly isn’t waking up anytime soon and it’s going to hurt like the Dickens when she comes to her senses anyway, she might as well enjoy the moment while it lasts. In for a penny, and all that.

Steve takes a deep breath as though steeling himself for something. “I hated the K4 biscuits.”

She laughs. Of the lies he could have come up with, this one is the least convincing. “Oh, come on. That’s ridiculous! You always had at least ten on hand. You traded rations for them.”

He tilts his head to the side and gives her an amused half-smile she’s never seen on him before.

“Actually… you were the only one I traded them for. I knew you liked the chocolate but when I tried to give you mine you wouldn’t accept it. So I pretended to love those stupid biscuits I knew you never ate to convince you it was a fair trade.”

His cheeks are ever so slightly pink – a world away from the full-faced blush he once would have worn at admitting this. She feels oddly had

“But you used to eat them, I’m sure!” She argues, doubtful. “And didn’t you also trade for them with the boys? I thought that’s how you always had so many with you.”

“Nah, you assumed that’s what was happening and I didn’t correct you. Truth is they were all the ones I’d gotten from you,” he shrugs. “I did have to eat some of them to stop you from getting suspicious but usually I’d only have one from the packet and pocket the rest. Dugan’s the only one who knows. He caught me one night dumping a load of them into a river – cost me two bottles of bourbon to keep him quiet.”

Peggy stands up and Steve shuffles back, surprised.

“Where are you going?” He asks as she marches to the kitchen.

“To ring Timothy,” she calls back. He trails into the kitchen after her, looking taken aback.

“Peg! It’s close to ten pm,” he argues.

“Not in New Zealand.”

He doesn’t say anything else, just leans against the counter opposite her with his hands in his pockets. She tries to ignore the rapid hum of her heart at the sight, and can only hope he hasn’t noticed her shaking hand as she picks up the receiver and dials the familiar code.

“Southern branch of Auerbach Theatrical Agency, how may I help you today?” Answers a cheerful female voice.

“Rose, it’s Peggy,” she states. “ID SD001.”

“Peg! I haven’t heard from you in a while, is everything okay?” Her voice is worried and Peggy feels a pang of guilt for not calling her more often to catch up. Rose is currently SHIELD’s primary communications operator for the Southern Hemisphere with a small office on the east coast of Australia.

“Everything’s just fine, Rose. I’ll call you sometime this week and we can have a proper chat but right now I need to speak with Sergeant Dugan. Could you check if he’s available and connect us, please?”

“Of course. I’ll put you through now.” She comes back after a moment and says, “He's not near the phone but they've sent someone to fetch him, he shouldn't be long."

She thanks Rose as the other woman connects the call. The seconds change into minutes and she drums her fingers on the counter as she waits. Steve is observing her kitchen silently, eyes roaming the room carefully only to return to her every 30 seconds or so. She pretends not to notice.

The wait drags out long enough for her to start questioning her sanity again – after all she’s ringing a man half a world away just to ask him a question about a dead friend who may or may not have come back to life – but before she can hang up, an anxious-sounding Dugan answers the phone.

“Peggy! Hey, remind me what pet bird Rose owns?” Code: What’s the situation?

She is pleasantly surprised he managed to remember the procedure for an unscheduled phone call. “A finch.” Code: Everything’s fine.

There’s a pause on the other end of the line. “It never has its wings clipped, did it?” Code: I’ll be on the first flight over.

Peggy rolls her eyes. “Finch means fine, you imbecile. Canary means trouble.”

“Oh. In that case… Peggy!! It’s good to hear from you! What’s with the unexpected chat? It’s past lunchtime here so it must be pretty late for you.”

“It is, and this sounds silly but I need you to settle a bet for me,” she tells him, visualising his raised eyebrow.

“A bet? Peg, have you been drinking? You shouldn’t make bets drunk.”

“Strong words from the man who once downed a bottle of rum, wagered he could climb the nearest tree, and preceded to fall flat on his arse.”

Across the room, Steve grins at the memory. She wonders if he’s also hearing the echo of the Howlies roaring with laughter as Dugan shells out his last two dollars to a grinning Morita.

“Alright, alright,” the sergeant grumbles. “I deserved that. What’s this bet anyway? I’m always up for seeing Stark lose some money. I’m guessing that’s who your bet’s with?”

“Howard seems to be under the impression that Steve hated those K4 ration biscuits I used to trade him,” she lies smoothly. “But you and I know better, don’t we?”

There’s silence on the end of the phone. Then he says slowly, “I was sort of sworn to secrecy over the answer.”

She doesn’t believe it. Surely it’s not the truth? Because if it is, the Steve in front of her is real. He’s here, in the flesh, not dead, claiming that he has lived in the future and had infinite opportunities to travel anywhere in time yet still decided that what he wanted most was to be with her.

“Timothy,” she says using her firmest voice. “There’s a bottle of Axel Grease in this for you if you play your cards right.” Steve pretends to be scandalised by placing a hand to his chest and mouths the word “bribery!” but for once in her life Peggy doesn’t care about winning. “Answer honestly, please.”

She swears she hears Dugan mutter “sorry, Cap,” under his breath before saying in a louder voice. “I hate to say it Peg but Stark’s right. He really did hate those things. Gotta say, after I found out it was pretty funny watching him choke them down and pretend to love them when you were watching.”

She’s not imagining him. There’s a ringing in her ears and Dugan speaking from down the line sounds very far away. Her vision is starting to go black around the edges. She’s not sure what’s happening. Then suddenly Steve’s warm hand is on her arm and it acts as a tether to pull her back to the present. His anxious blue eyes are searching hers in concern.

Dugan is calling her name.

“I’m okay,” she tells them both in a whisper. “I just… didn’t expect it to be true.”

Steve’s smile is small and sad.

To Dugan she says in that same, croaky voice: “I have to go. Thank you – I’ll make sure you get that bourbon soon.” She hangs up without even waiting for a reply, which is not only incredibly rude but will probably cause the alarm to be raised. She can’t bring herself to care.

She’s acutely aware of the pressure of Steve’s hand on her right arm. Without a word she raises her left and places it gently over his torso. She can feel the steady _thum-thump_ even through his clothes.

“You’re really here,” she murmurs, and suddenly his arms are around her with her head tucked into his chest and she’s inhaling deeply because he still smells like him – the rich, earthy scent of leather and Maplewood – but there’s a hint of something unfamiliar in it too.

“I’m really here,” he says, so low that she can feel the words rumble through his chest. “I’m sorry it took me so long.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she assures, and she’s surprised to find that she believes it. She would have readily endured an entire lifetime of heartache if it meant that he survived. She squeezes her eyes shut. “As long as you never disappear again.”

“I’m not going anywhere without you, Peg,” he assures. There’s desperate, pained edge to his voice. “Not ever again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually intended to end this with their heart to heart but I'll have to save it for the next instalment. Sorry! I hope you enjoyed this chapter anyway.
> 
> As well as that next chapter we'll explore a bit more of Angie, Jack, and Daniel's reactions to Steve's return. 
> 
> Please review, I love knowing what you guys think, good or bad!


End file.
